A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)(21)

"I see," said Diana in bemusement. "He is a rather unusual man."

"Unusual? I might suggest ungovernable."

"You mean a rogue." Diana settled her skirts and took up the reins.

"It's not that he's without honor, Diana, but you must understand DeVere only follows his own code." Ned gave her a meaningful look and hoisted himself gracefully into the saddle. "I hope you'll take extreme care in any dealings with him. He is ruthless and calculating when he chooses to be and has a strong predilection to manipulate and exploit the vulnerabilities of others—when it suits his purpose. He just can't help himself. It's not that he's evil incarnate, or anything like that. It's just he has low tolerance for weakness, incompetence, or buffoonery."

Diana lifted her brow. "You know I am no fool, dear Edward. I take full responsibility for my actions and have already made clear what I am willing and not willing to sacrifice. You are truly like night and day, you and he," she remarked. "I marvel that you've maintained such a close friendship all these years."

Edward shrugged. "We are enough alike in matters of import. Though I may not approve of all his actions, how he chooses to live is his business. I shall never meddle." He inclined his head to the verdant landscape in the near distance. "Shall we go and watch the trials?"

"But of course!" Diana laughed and urged her horse into an easy canter.

***

The afternoon had proven a glorious diversion. During that brief period of watching the horses gallop across the down, Diana's spirits had risen, and her mind had cleared of any worry. Hew had ridden DeVere's stallion against DeVere on Cartimandua, and the lithe little chestnut mare had certainly held her own, keeping pace with the larger horse until the very last furlong when he began to gain ground. Although Prometheus won by a length, the horses were carrying unequal weight for size, which had placed the mare at a disadvantage. Aware of this, DeVere was suitably impressed with her.

"You were right. She's got both speed and bottom," he remarked upon dismounting and handed the horse off for hot-walking.

"She was bred to run, my lord, and moreover, to produce winners. If she wins tomorrow, you must help to ensure that I get the prize money to clear Reggie's debts, less what I owe you for the entry fee, of course."

"Perhaps I should remind you that your win is not assured," DeVere said.

"I know, my lord, but she has a good chance. You said so yourself."

"I'll allow you that," he agreed with a smile.

"I have one concern now," she said. "Who will ride her?"

"I have a very good man in Pratt," he said. "He's one of my best grooms. I willingly place him at your disposal."

"Then we are agreed, my lord?"

"Aye. Your mare will run."

Diana unclasped her pearls and handed them to DeVere with a satisfied smile. "Then mine was not such a ridiculous proposition after all."

"Mayhap not, but mine was far better," he added sotto voce, with a dark look that made her insides quiver.

The smile froze on Diana's face. "There is something you clearly do not yet understand, my lord. My virtue is neither for sale, nor for barter—under any circumstances."

DeVere answered with a cynical laugh. "My dear, there is something you have yet to learn. In this world, everything and everyone has a price."

***

Insufferable man! Diana's pulse pounded a furious drumbeat in her head. She had never known anyone who could inflame her to such a passion of pique as Ludovic DeVere. His arrogance was intolerable, yet all of her senses seemed to spring to life in his presence. He both taunted and tempted with his sardonic gaze of the deepest blue, and the mocking twist to his sensuous mouth.

Wish as she might, she found him impossible to ignore, especially the fact that he wanted her. This knowledge and the visions of him in her dreams incessantly plagued her thoughts. What would it be like just once to be his lover? She knew she could never act upon such a thing. She could never live with herself if she did, yet he still preoccupied her mind.

After the mare's cooling, Diana accompanied the groom and Cartimandua back to the stables where he led her into her box and then returned to the others on the down. Diana remained with her mare. While she and Reggie employed a number of boys in their stables, Diana had always enjoyed caring for her own mounts. It was an old and well-loved habit. The smells of fresh hay, oiled leather, and equine were a concoction that always soothed her soul.

Taking up a brush, she began stroking the sleek, chestnut coat. While the horse contentedly munched her oats, Diana remained enthralled with her thoughts of DeVere—until Reggie's voice jarred into her ruminations, and the boar's hair brush almost dropped from her hand. Her first impulse was to confront him, but his peculiar speech gave her pause.

"We were so close," Reggie said, clawing a hand through his thinning hair. "So damnably close to our plans coming to fruition. I was up at least a thousand at the Hazard table, but then my luck suddenly turned south. Cogged dice, it was! The bloody sharps! Half a dozen throws, and it was all gone. All we had hoped for dashed away!"

We? Our plans? Diana frowned. He was talking to his head groom, James Johnson, and while she was obscured from their view by her mare, she could clearly distinguish the two of them through the iron bars of the box stall.